


The Laughter Waltz

by QueerGirlTakeover



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Waltzing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:49:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3222992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerGirlTakeover/pseuds/QueerGirlTakeover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura and Carmilla waltz at their wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Laughter Waltz

The music floats through the air, and Carmilla holds her hand out to Laura. Laura takes it, smiling, and Carmilla thinks she's going to melt when their fingers touch. She leads Laura out to the floor, spins her once before pulling her in, face to face, chest to chest. The bottom of Laura's dress sweeps across the floor as Laura spins out again. _One two three one two thr- shit._

Carmilla trips – over what she doesn't know – and has to throw out her arms to right herself. She misses catching Laura on the way back and Laura stops to figure out what's going on. At the sight of Carmilla, usually so upright and elegant, halfway between standing up and falling down, she giggles, then claps her free hand over her mouth. Carmilla glares playfully at her before reaching out for her again.

Other couples have joined them, though not many, so most of the guests are watching them, a little shocked. When she pulls Laura in again, she whispers, “I'm sorry.”

Laura smiles again. “It's okay.” She leans forward, kisses Carmilla gently. For a moment they dance, just steps and the music.

And then- Carmilla's tripped, this time probably over her own feet. Laura actually laughs this time, and Carmilla stands up with all the dignity she can muster. Damn her cheeks for betraying her.

“What's going on?” Laura asks, when Carmilla has managed to take a few steps without falling. She regains her balance and what little dignity she still has. Laura looks concerned. “Is it my dress?”

Carmilla spins Laura out, watches the dress flare around her ankles as she steps out and then back in, each foot placed perfectly. “It's definitely not that,” she says, once Laura is safe with her again.

“You're looking pretty good yourself,” Laura says. “Have I told you that already?”

Carmilla blushes, looks down. Her suit fits her in all the right places, and she knows she looks good, but Laura is something else. Lafontaine had grinned their wide goofy grin when they'd seen Carmilla, standing in front of the mirror, pulling nervously on her sleeves.

“You look great. Wonderful arm candy for Laura,” they'd said, stepping in. “Black and white – a classic.”

“I didn't want to wear _all_ black,” Carmilla said. She twisted her hair up above her head, looked at herself critically. “Up or down?”

“Down,” Lafontaine had replied. Carmilla dropped her hair, and Lafontaine smoothed it over her shoulders with their fingers. “Definitely down.”

“Carmilla?” Laura says. “You okay?”

“What? Oh yeah.” She looks around. The floor has filled some, people probably less anxious about dancing now that Carmilla has stopped tripping all over the place. Carmilla takes a deep breath. _You can do this._ She looks at her wife, at those bright eyes-

And she's tripping again, Laura giggling, and after a moment Carmilla giggles herself at how ridiculous it is.

“This is your fault,” she says to a still laughing Laura. “You're distracting me.”

“Me?” Laura says incredulously. “You slacked off and didn't come to our rehearsals.”

“I've been waltzing for over three hundred years. I know what I'm doing.” Of course, her feet choose that moment to fumble – Laura's eyes having everything to do with it, _again_.

“You sure about that?” Laura asks. Her laughter is infectious and Carmilla laughs too, any sense of embarrasment sliding right off her. It's this Laura she loves, the laughing playful one, and this woman loves her back.

“Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” he had asked, and Laura never looked away when she said the words, “I do.”

Carmilla had felt Laura's hands beneath her own, warm, living, bones so fragile she's afraid sometimes to touch her, and still so strong Carmilla cannot sometimes believe she is real. It didn't feel real – or perhaps it felt too real, the only real thing in three hundred years – to stand across from her, from in her a wedding dress no less. She didn't hear the question when it was asked, but she knew exactly when it was her time to say the words.

They'd felt like stones dropping from her lips into the still pond of time. She'd imagined she could see the ripples flowing all the way back to her birth, when this was put into motion. “I do.”

The music is still playing, and people are starting to stare at them again, so Carmilla straightens herself, holds out her arms. Laura takes them, stately, the joke still on her face.

They're spinning again, _one two three one two three,_ a line in the pattern of the dance. Carmilla watches Laura's face, her wife. She can't believe it, it hasn't quite hit her that this amazing, beautiful woman has married her, and then – she should have seen this coming – she trips over her own feet again. She grabs Laura to keep herself upright, and laughter overcomes her. Laura dissolves into giggles and they're leaning on each other's arms.

Their guests have stopped dancing, are watching them with concern, but the band plays on. The music dances around them, between the guests. It wraps itself around Laura and Carmilla where they stand, laughing themselves into tears of happy disbelief.


End file.
